


The Morning After the Night Before Christmas

by ScienceOfficerWillowRosenberg (workaholicSlacker)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/F, Mostly Dialogue, Past Drug Addiction, Post-Canon, Rare Pairings, gleefully ignores the killer in me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 05:44:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9058195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/workaholicSlacker/pseuds/ScienceOfficerWillowRosenberg
Summary: It's Christmas morning in Boston.  Faith talks to the girl who brought her home.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kylia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kylia/gifts).



Faith pulled on her jeans.  She guessed she’d wake up the girl--Amy, right?--before she left.  Time was, she’d just slip out and be gone.

Amy sort of stirred and reached out for the empty space where Faith was.  She felt around, growing increasingly agitated.  Faith sat and took her hand.  Might as well give her that.

“You’re leaving?” asked the other woman sleepily.

“I mean, when I brought a stranger back to my shitty motel, I didn’t exactly want them to hang around once, you know, the cork popped.”

They’d barely talked.  They danced, hopped on the MBTA practically with their hands in each others’ pockets, one thing led to another led to exactly what you expect, then both of them sorta conked out.  Not a bad Christmas eve, at least compared to Faith’s other years.

“Baby, it’s cold outside,” Amy said, with a smile in her voice.

“Christ, I hate that song.  Least favorite Christmas song.”  Faith crouched to the floor.  “You seen my socks?”

“No.  And my least favorite is, like, that John Lennon one.  We get it, it’s the Sixties, not everything has to be a friggin’ protest song.  He gets a pass for ‘Cold Turkey,’ though.”

The way this chick was talking, it seemed like she hadn’t had a good talk for a while.  Faith knew lonely.  Guess she was staying, at least for a little while.

“So you’re a long way from So-Cal.  How’d you get up to the land of ice and snow, anyhow?”

“How did you know I’m from California?”

“Accent.”

“Yeah, well, I kinda wanted to get as far from home as I could.”

“No shit.  I came back to Boston because I wanted to prove I didn’t have to run from home anymore.”

“Besides.  Home’s a big sinkhole now.  Or, like, crater.”

“Sunnydale kid, huh?  I spent some time there.  Mostly making mistakes and pining for a girl.”

“Same.  Minus the pining.”  Amy stood up, and started pacing.  Faith had been too busy tearing off clothes and touching skin to really get a good look at her.  She was pretty.  And not, apparently, interested in getting clothes.

“You’re givin’ me ideas, babe,” said Faith, realizing exactly how cheesy that was.

“Nah, this isn’t sex-naked.  I’m just...fabric on skin kinda wigs me, actually.”

Faith would have been glad for round two, but she wouldn’t push it.  Well, maybe a little.  “I might stare.”

“Hey, enjoy.”

Faith pulled a flask from her jacket pocket. “Schnapps?”

“No thanks.”

“You sure?  It’s peppermint.  Seasonal.”  Faith shook it enticingly.

“Look, I don’t...I don’t really like being altered anymore, you know.”

And now the ‘Cold Turkey’ comment made sense.  Smooth move, Faith.  Push intoxicants on a former addict.  Maybe it was time to leave.

“It’s OK, you didn’t know.  I wasn’t a drunk, but I was into some heavy shit.” She lowered her voice. “Like, Sunnydale heavy.”

“Yeah, I know a few dozen kinds of Sunnydale heavy.  Never tried most of them.  Had to shoot Orpheus once--long story--and let me tell you, that is some evil shit.

“Never shot anything.  Never snorted anything.  Just, you know, magic.  Nothing druggy about it, right?”  Jesus, this chick was opening up quick.  “Anyway, I was a witch.  Now I’m not.”  She said it with such resignation.  “Hey,” she said, her voice brightening, “What’d you get up to in Sunnydale?  I showed you mine, now you show me yours.”

“Oh, you’re showin’ plenty of yours,” said Faith, eyeing Amy.  She’d give anything to just jump back into bed where things were simple.

“We have time for that later,” said Amy, bending backwards and then touching her toes.  Faith wasn’t sure what the fuck that was for, but it was hot. “I never met you back in Sunnydale.  Might have been during--okay, this sounds fucking stupid, but I was a rat.”

Faith cracked up.  “Amy the rat!  You’re her!  Jesus, that’s someone I never thought I’d hear about again.”

“You knew Willow and Buffy?”

“Babe, I’m the other slayer.  They never talked about me?”

“Willow and I didn’t do a lot of serious conversation, it was mostly…”

“Sex and drugs and rock ‘n’ roll, I know.”

“Oh, god, Willow must hate me.”

“She’s not sure you’re even alive.  So, I gotta know, did you get with Red?”

“I wish.  I kinda figured out I liked girls shortly after I was persona non grata with her.”

Amy sat on the bed.  Faith sat with her.  She looked smaller now, somehow.  Faith put an arm around her.  Amy sighed.  “Jesus, I’m always gonna be Amy the rat, huh?”  Her voice cracked.

Faith kissed her.  Not with hunger, not with any wandering hands.  Just to kiss her.

As Faith pulled away, Amy fell against her.  This was a new position for Faith to be in.  “Hey...you okay?” was all she could think to say.

“Yeah,” said Amy dully.  “I just thought I’d be done with all of it.”

“Yeah, I got no great advice about redemption other than that I ain’t done with any of my shit either.”

Amy smiled.  “Yeah.”

“Hey,” said Faith.  “It’s gonna be sunrise soon. Do you, like, wanna go for a walk?  You know, see the sun come up on Christmas morning or whatever.”

Amy retrieved her dress and pulled on her tights.  “Yeah,” she said  “I think I would.”

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Happy Decemberween, Alkeni.


End file.
